


Bullets and Bruises

by UnderwhelmingAlchemist



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes Gets Shot, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes in Bucharest, Bucky in Pain, Bucky is afraid of dogs, Fight Scene in Later Chapters, First Kiss, M/M, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, dog attack, i wrote this instead of doing homework, it's explained in chapter six, it's short, multichapter fic, recovered bucky, there will be a warning before it too, you can skip over it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderwhelmingAlchemist/pseuds/UnderwhelmingAlchemist
Summary: Three years after the events of The Winter Soldier, Bucky contacts Steve out of the blue at 2AM. As it turns out, Bucky’s been shot. Twice. And Steve, being a good friend, helps him out. As they prepare to take down whoever shot Bucky, they slowly get used to being together again. Chapters are all pre-written, so this fic is finished. No need to worry about me dropping it. I'll try to update on Tuesdays.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 21
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to make a fanfic based on a roleplay starter I made. This is not a full text fic, there’s just a brief part near the beginning because that was the original format of the RP starter. SR = Steve Rogers and JB = James Barnes. Also, as a side note, there’s a part where I needed a location so I grabbed a random corner in Brooklyn off of Google Maps because I lack creativity.
> 
> Also, this chapter and the next is focused more on Steve, but the future chapters will be more Bucky-focused.

It had been three years since Bucky had dragged Steve out of that river and left him on the shore, or so Steve presumed. There was nobody else that could’ve saved his life. 

Steve had never stopped looking, but he always seemed to be several steps behind. Bucky was good at disappearing. Eventually, the trail went cold. He hadn’t caught wind of Bucky’s presence anywhere for six months, and he was beginning to wonder if he was still alive. 

That was, until he got a text from an unknown number at 2AM.

I need your help. -JB

Who is this? -SR

Right. I forgot you don’t have this number. This is Bucky. -JB

Jesus Christ. -SR

No, like I said, said this is Bucky. -JB

No, I mean… Oh, you know what I mean. -SR

This better not be a sick joke. -SR

Not a joke. -JB

Prove it. -SR

Your Ma’s name was Sarah and you used to wear newspapers in your shoes. -JB

It really is you. -SR

Yeah, it’s me. -JB

Hey, Stevie. It’s been a while. -JB

That’s an understatement. Where have you been for the last six months? I thought I was on your trail but I lost it. I was starting to think you were dead. -SR

Romania. It’s a long story. -JB

Are you still in Romania? -SR

No, I’m in Brooklyn. -JB

Brooklyn? What are you doing here? -SR

Getting shot, apparently. -JB

What? Shot? Are you okay? -SR

Define “okay”. -JB

Not dying? -SR

Then yes, I’m okay. I am, however, bleeding a lot. -JB

Where are you? I’ll come get you. -SR

On the corner of Atlantic Avenue and Utica Avenue. I’m hiding in the alleyway next to the AutoZone. -JB

I’ll be there in ten minutes. -SR

Thank you. I owe you one. -JB

Actually, I owe you several. -JB

No, you don’t. Consider it repayment for pulling me out of the river. -SR

I was the reason you were in the river in the first place. -JB

We’ll talk about this later. I’m getting in the car now. I’ll see you in ten minutes. -SR

True to his word, ten minutes later, Steve was pulling into AutoZone parking lot a grey sedan, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He hadn’t heard from Bucky in years, and the fact that he was suddenly in his metaphorical backyard with apparent gunshot wounds was a lot to take in at once. 

He climbed out of the car, heading to the alleyway beside the store. The rain was pouring around him, and as he walked, his footsteps loudly announced his presence. 

When he rounded the corner, the first thing he noticed was the gun pointing at him from the end of alleyway. It really shouldn’t have surprised him as much as he did. After a moment’s hesitation, he raised his arms above the head. The gun lowered. 

Bucky was sitting slumped against the wall, a puddle of water and blood below him. It was dark, and his clothing obscured the actual gunshot wound. Or wounds. He wasn’t sure how many times he’d been shot. His clothes were dark and dirty, and metal hand was obscured by a glove. His hair was long and hung in his face, obscuring it from sight. He had a backpack on his shoulders, clipped in the front.

“Bucky?” Steve called out cautiously, letting his hands fall back to his sides as he walked down the alleyway. 

“Hey, Stevie.”

His familiar voice and the old nickname made Steve’s heart race. A little relieved grin spread across his face. “Can you walk? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got two gunshot wounds. One in my side and one in my leg. I can stand, and I limped my way here, but that was before the adrenaline wore off.”

“How much blood have you lost?”

“I’m not sure. A lot? Right now I just need tweezers, a needle and thread, and some bandages.”

“We could always take you to a h-”

“No hospitals. I’m a wanted man, remember?”

“Right,” Steve sighed. “Alright, let’s just get you to the car.” 

Steve stopped by Bucky’s side, leaning down and helping him to his feet. Bucky leaned heavily on him, clutching his side. As they walked, he took a step a little too hard and groaned in pain. Steve paused, looking over to his side, trying to read his face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Keep walking.”

Steve gave him a concerned look but continued walking towards the car. Once he was there, he opened the door to the backseat. 

Bucky practically collapsed into the back, moving so Steve could shut the door. Steve returned to the front seat, tossing him a couple old t-shirts he’d brought with him. “Here. Bandage yourself up the best you can and keep pressure on it. We’ll be home in about ten minutes. Think you can hang on for that long?”

“Yeah, I think so. You mind if I rip these?”

“Go ahead.”

Bucky tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants, then held part of the shirt in his teeth as he ripped it into strips. He tied it around his jeans as tightly as he could, watching as blood soaked through the white fabric. He wasn’t sure how deep the bullets went, and he wasn’t looking forward to digging them out. 

Once his leg was bandaged, he stripped off his canvas jacket and pulled his shirt up just enough to expose the wound in his side. He wrapped the bandages around his middle the best he could while lying down in the backseat of the car. 

He felt light-headed, and pain was throbbing through him. He had lost a lot of blood, and right then, he just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep. Not only was he exhausted, he just wanted to make the pain stop for a little while. But that wasn’t in the cards for him. 

The car stopped outside a familiar apartment complex. Steve had moved back into the apartment they used to share back in the forties. He knew where Steve lived from his research, but seeing the old building, although somewhat remodeled, was nice. 

Steve got out of the car, going around to the passenger side to help Bucky out. It took some shifting and stumbling, but eventually Bucky got to his feet, leaning heavily on Steve again. He took him inside, grateful there were no people in the lobby. The elevator stayed blissfully empty as well. Before long they were stumbling through the door and Bucky was on the couch, leg propped up on the arm of the sofa. 

Steve went to go get the first aid kit that was stashed in his bathroom. It contained everything needed, including some super-soldier strength painkillers. He returned to the living room and knelt by Bucky’s side. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was shot. Twice.” His voice was somewhat strained.

“Well, you’re feeling well enough to make quips.” 

“Touché.” Bucky pushed himself into a sitting position, looking at the first aid kit at Steve opened it. 

“I have some painkillers in here. They might help with things, but they’ll only work about as well as Advil would for a normal person. And taking Advil for gunshot wounds is a little…”

“Underkill?”

“Is that a word?”

Bucky shrugged, then winced at the motion. “Maybe? That’s not the most pressing issue right now.”

“Right. So do you want the painkillers?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll take that.”

Steve left the room for a moment and returned with a glass of water and a rag. Bucky took the glass gratefully, popped the pills in his mouth, and swallowed them down with the water. “How long before they start working?”

“Fifteen minutes. They work fast.” 

“I don’t want to wait that long to get the bullets out.”

“That’s… probably a good idea.” Steve grabbed the forceps, looking at the bullet wound in his leg that was bleeding onto couch. Thank god it was a dark couch. “You’re going to have to take off your pants.”

Bucky paused, then hesitantly pulled the gun out of his waistband, placed it on the coffee table, and tugged off his pants. It was nothing Steve hadn’t seen before. He didn’t have all his memories back, but he knew enough about his past to know that Steve had definitely seen him in his boxers before. And much less. Now probably wasn’t the best time to bring it up, however. 

Steve took out a little cotton swab and poured disinfectant on it, then started cleaning the wounds. It stung like hell, but it was nothing compared to the pain from the wounds, so he just bit his lip and put up with it. Once he was done, he pulled away. 

“Alright, this is going to hurt. Do you want to bite down on this?” Steve offered, holding up the clean rag he’d brought from the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’s probably smart.” Bucky took the rag, putting it in his mouth and clenching it between his teeth. Steve looked at him, and they locked eyes for a moment. Steve’s eyes were so painfully familiar. There was something comforting about staring into them, even if they were clearly worried. “You ready?” he asked, voice muffled. 

Steve seemed to understand. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bucky just shrugged. Steve took a deep breath, looking down at the bullet wound in his leg. After a moment in which both of them braced themselves, Steve plunged the forceps into Bucky’s leg. 

Bucky gave a strangled cry that was muffled by the rag in his mouth. Pain rolled through his body in waves as Steve worked at his leg. Even after the bullet was out, he found himself breathing heavily and struggling to stop shaking. 

Steve placed a hand on his uninjured leg, giving him something to focus on that wasn’t just pain. Bucky looked down at him, being met with worried blue eyes. 

“One more, okay? One more, and then we’re going to stitch you up. It’s going to be okay.”

Bucky just nodded, then lifted up his shirt to show the wound in his side. Steve winced, then squeezed Bucky’s leg, gave him one more ‘it’s going to be okay’, and started on the one in his side. 

Once more, pain flooded his system, and he found himself clutching the couch with his free hand. The fabric ripped beneath his grip. Steve didn’t seem to notice. A moment later, there was a clatter as Steve put the blood-soaked bullet in the empty water glass alongside the first one. 

“Alright, I’m going to stitch you up now, okay? You’re doing great. You just need to hang in there a little longer. Please.”

Bucky gave Steve another nod, watching as he threaded the curved needle and went to work. It hurt, but not nearly as much as getting bullets dug out of him. He sat there, watching himself be stitched up, for what felt like an eternity. Eventually Steve finished and cut the thread. He sat back, breathing a sigh of relief before looking up at Bucky. 

“Are you okay?”

“I just want a nap,” Bucky admitted. 

“Great. Let’s get you cleaned up first-”

“No, I just… I just need to sleep.” It had been a few days since he’d slept. Since he’d come back to the states, he’d been on the run. He’d not had many places to sleep, either. 

Steve gave him a worried look but nodded. “Fine. You can sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. But you have to change, and first thing tomorrow, you’re going to shower.”

Bucky sighed, but agreed. Steve grabbed bandages, wrapping his leg and side tightly. Bucky winced, but let him. After that was done, Bucky grabbed his gun and Steve helped him to his feet. He helped him to the bedroom, and Bucky placed the gun on the nightstand. He sat down on the bed with a groan. After making sure Bucky was okay, Steve went to his drawers, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He handed them over to Bucky. 

“I’m going to let you change, okay? If you need me, call me.”

Bucky nodded, offering Steve a pained small. “Thank you.”

“And Bucky?”

“Yes?”

“It’s good to have you back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Bucky sleeps, Steve reflects on their time together in the forties, including their first kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: This chapter is shorter than the others, partially due to the shortness of the scene, but also because as I wrote this, I was trying to get this chapter done before I went to sleep. I had work in the morning, and it was almost midnight. The other chapters are at least a little longer. Alright, that’s enough from me. On to the fanfic.

Steve tried to sleep. He really did. But it was hard when Bucky, the man he’d spent the past three years searching for, nearly obsessing over, who he thought might be dead less than three hours ago, was sleeping in the next room over. It felt surreal. He felt almost giddy just thinking about it. He hadn’t been that happy about anything in a long time.

Eventually he gave up on trying to sleep and slid off the couch, quietly moving to the door of Bucky’s room. He’d shut the door before he went to bed. That wasn’t really surprising. He probably felt more secure that way. After a moment’s hesitation, he opened the door quietly. It creaked and he froze, listening to see if Bucky would stir. And normally, he most likely would’ve. But that night, he was completely drained. His body needed to heal, and it had pretty much shut itself down for the night. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. 

Bucky was lying on his uninjured side, curled up ever so slightly, his hand extended. It lay on the bed a foot away from where the gun lay on the nightstand. It would’ve taken seconds for him to reach for it had he woken up. He looked so peaceful. He was wearing Steve’s shirt, and something about the sight made Steve’s heart ache. 

The last time he’d seen Bucky, he’d had his fist raised above his face, hundreds of emotions flooding across his face. Confusion, panic, and recognition were just a few he could pick out. And then Steve had been falling. He felt that if he’d had just a couple more seconds, Bucky would’ve lowered that fist. And maybe they could’ve talked, worked it out. Maybe they could’ve left there together. 

He’d claimed to have no memory of him. Of who they used to be. 

And now he was back. He wasn’t sure how many of his memories he had back, but he’d acted like Bucky had back in the day. He had a hint of a Brooklyn accent. He’d called him ‘Stevie’. It felt like he had Bucky back. _His_ Bucky. 

And he had been _his_ Bucky. It felt like a lifetime ago, but Bucky had been his once. And he’d been Bucky’s. 

They’d had their first kiss when Steve was fifteen and Bucky was sixteen. Bucky had stolen bourbon from his parents’ liquor cabinet for his birthday, and they’d been sitting on the roof of Steve’s building. They hadn’t been drunk, just a little tipsy. But Steve was already impulsive when he was sober. 

They’d been laughing about something stupid, and Bucky had caught Steve’s eyes. The laughter had faded into a comfortable silence, and they hadn’t dropped their gaze. Then a second later, Steve was grabbing the front of Bucky’s shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

He wasn’t strong enough to move Bucky on his own, so he’d known that he’d been willing the second he moved with the tug on his shirt. His lips were surprisingly soft, and his mouth was warm on the chilly March night. The kiss had stayed soft and gentle, and when Bucky pulled away, his face had been painted with shock. Then he’d grinned and leaned back in for another. 

Steve smiled at the memory. He and Bucky had done everything together. They spent so much time by each other’s sides that many people joked that they were inseparable. 

Bucky had still dated girls on the side, sort of. It was never anything serious, and they agreed that it was necessary to keep their cover. But whenever it was possible, he’d set up double dates. He and Steve would take a couple girls out somewhere romantic. Usually at the end of the night, Bucky would end up with a kiss from the girl and Steve would end up with an awkward handshake, but that was okay, because he’d get to steal a kiss from Bucky in private later. And, when they’d moved out, he’d sometimes get a lot more. Not often. Bucky seemed to think of him as something precious and fragile, something he was scared to break. Steve tried his best to prove him wrong, but Bucky was just as stubborn as he was. 

A lot of things changed once he’d gotten the serum. For one, the Howlies had suspected something between Steve and Bucky, but they never said a thing. He suspected they really didn’t care either way. And Steve’s new durability had certain perks that Bucky had taken full advantage of whenever they were alone. They’d almost been caught more than once. Steve had always just laughed it off. Bucky had been much more conscientious. 

Bucky had always been the sensible one, even if he was every bit as much of a stubborn smartass as Steve was. He’d been the one getting them out of the trouble that Steve got them into. He’d been the best influence in Steve’s life, even if he hadn’t always listened to him. 

He’d loved him. 

He still loved him. 

Seeing him again brought up all sorts of feelings he’d thought he’d buried deep enough down that he wouldn’t have to acknowledge them ever again. But now, watching him sleep in his borrowed shirt with hair spread out on the pillow, he found himself revisiting all sorts of memories and emotions.

He wondered if Bucky remembered their relationship. And if he did, how did he feel about it? Did he remember that night on the roof? 

Steve decided that even if he did remember, he wouldn’t put pressure on Bucky to talk about it. It was his own decision whether or not to pursue information about their relationship. He doubted he still had feelings for him. After everything, he’d be surprised if he still loved him like he used to. 

He wondered if he still had any feelings for him at all, platonic or otherwise. Maybe he’d just contacted him because he’d been convenient. He’d been in Brooklyn, he’d needed help, and he probably knew that Steve lived there. He wondered what he was doing in Brooklyn in the first place. Maybe he’d ask him the next morning at breakfast. 

Was he staying for breakfast? He knew he probably healed fast, but bullet wounds would take time to fully recover from. He most likely wouldn’t be able to get far on his injured leg. The bullet that went into his side looked like it hadn’t hit anything vital, but it would still certainly slow him down. 

Even if he did stick around, there was a good chance that he would only be doing it because he had no other choice. If he wanted to be around him, he would’ve stopped by long before now, right? This had to be just because of the injury. 

But what if he was back for real this time? What if he’d come home and planned to stay there? A little flutter of hope blossomed in Steve’s chest. Maybe, just maybe, he’d decided now was the time he’d stay. 

Deciding to cling to that bit of hope, Steve tried to stop overthinking it. He stepped back and shut the door, returning to the couch. He pulled the blanket up over his body and closed his eyes, letting himself sink into sleep, still hoping silently that Bucky was really, truly back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky talks about his past in Romania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter on, the focus will be more on Bucky. Mostly because I’m better at writing Bucky. Also I have an undying love for his character.

As sunlight filtered through the window, Bucky slowly opened his eyes. He had a low throbbing pain in his side and his leg, but other than that, he was more comfortable than he’d been in years. Even in Romania he’d only had a cheap mattress on the floor. 

It felt surreal lying there. He could hear the sounds of the city outside his closed window and Steve moving around in the next room over. He hadn’t showered, but his clothes were clean for the first time in a week. The sheets on the bed were clean too. The blankets were heavy above him, a comforting weight.

Everything around him was clean and cozy. The décor of the room was somewhat old fashioned as well. There was an analog alarm clock on the nightstand, the kind he might have found back in the forties. The radio beside it was just as old-fashioned, although it seemed to be in good shape, so he wondered how old it actually was exactly. It would be nice to have something from his past around him. 

But it wasn’t like he didn’t have any other pieces of his past around him. He was lying in the apartment he used to share with Steve, and Steve himself was in the next room over. The bedroom was still pretty similar to the way it used to be. There was one queen sized bed instead of two twin mattresses, and it was much better decorated, but the window was in the same place, and the placement of furniture had the echoes of their previous room. 

The whole room served as a reminder of his past. Specifically, the part of his past that he’d shared with Steve.

After a moment of just lying in bed and regaining his bearings, Bucky slid out of bed, wincing as he put weight on his leg. Normally the motion would’ve been silent, but now it was accompanied by a slight noise of pain and the sound of his feet hitting the floor. He heard Steve stop what he was doing in the other room, then his footsteps approaching the door. 

The door creaked as it opened as Steve stuck his head in. He smiled when he saw that he was awake and on his feet. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Stevie.”

“Careful of your leg.”

“I know, I know.” Bucky shifted his weight so it was mostly on his left leg. “It’s not my first time being shot.”

“I’m going to ignore exactly how concerning that is for a moment,” Steve said. “Instead I’m just going to ask you how you’re feeling.”

“Better than last night. Not exactly perfect, but I’ve had… however long I’ve been asleep to heal.”

“Eleven hours.”

“Eleven-alright, got it. That’s a lot longer than the four hours I usually get.”

“Well, you’re in a safe place, and your body needed to heal. It still does.” 

“You make a good point, I guess.”

“I made pancakes. Are you hungry?”

Bucky’s stomach growled at the mention of pancakes. He hadn’t actually eaten a proper meal in a long time. For the past week he’d been stealing from convenience stores and 7/11s to eat, which meant he was surviving off of a diet of candy bars and energy drinks. His metabolism was superhumanly fast, so he needed to eat more than the usual person. That combined with the fact that he’d only been stealing a handful of junk food each time meant that he’d been eating much, much less than he should’ve over the past week. 

“Yeah, pancakes sound great.” 

Steve smiled, and Bucky returned it with a little lopsided grin. 

He followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table. The kitchen was small, and the table only had three chairs. Steve must not have many guests.

Steve placed a large plate of pancakes on the table, then put two plates and two forks in front of the chairs. He sat down across from Bucky and started piling pancakes onto his plate. Bucky did the same. 

Bucky ate quickly, filling his mouth with forkful after forkful of the pancakes. He was half starved, and he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a long time. Steve watched him with a mixture of happiness and amusement. He seemed to be glad that Bucky was enjoying his food, and on top of that, he was home. After years and years of being apart, he was finally back in the apartment they’d shared, sitting at the kitchen table, eating pancakes Steve made. 

Eventually he slowed down a little and looked up, catching Steve’s gaze. “What?” he asked through a mouthful of pancakes. 

“Nothing. It’s just… I’m glad you’re back.”

Bucky swallowed and grinned at him. “It’s good to be back.”

“Not to pry, but… Why _are_ you back?”

Bucky paused. “Romania… didn’t really work out.”

“You mentioned Romania in your texts. What were you doing there?”

Bucky took another bite of pancakes, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “I had a life there. I had an apartment and a cat and… well, not friends. More like acquaintances.

“I went to Romania to keep a low profile. I planned to stay a month, maybe a little longer. So I got an apartment. I didn’t have money, so I made a deal with the landlady. I would do handiwork around the complex at first, and eventually I would pay her back for that month of rent. I was honestly just planning on skipping town before paying rent came up, but I needed money anyways, so while I stayed in that apartment, I did odd jobs around town. I could do a lot more than a normal human, like heavy lifting and other manual labor.

“That month was… nice. I wasn’t used to just having a life. For the first time, I had a space that was mine. It was a shitty one-room apartment with a mattress in the corner and a tiny kitchen. There was a stray cat that would hang out on the fire escape, and I’d feed him and let him in on rainy nights and he’d hide in my apartment. I’d let him out again in the morning. It was like having my own cat. I even had a couple of regulars. An old woman who wanted her furniture rearranged every other week. A shop owner that had me unload trucks for him every morning. I had a life.

“By the time the month was up, I had a decision to make. I could move on, or I could keep the life I’d made for myself in that month. I spent days deciding. Eventually. I chose to stay. There was nothing else for me out there, and it had been a year and a half of evading HYDRA. I thought that I was finally able to just settle down for a little while.

“So I stayed. I kept doing odd jobs. I got more clients. I tried to keep the extent of my strength covered up, just like my arm. People probably suspected that I was superhuman instead of just strong, but superhumans are a lot more common now than they used to be. Most of them kept their mouths shut, at least around me. I never let them see the arm, either. Word still spread that there was a guy that could lift pretty much anything you wanted for you. I got more money and got more comfortable in my home. 

“I found a couch on the corner one day. I got pots and pans to try to cook. I had a backpack with my emergency stash of money and a kind of scrapbook that I filled with memories I recovered and articles about you and passages from books about me. It was really helpful. I still have it.

“I started buying actual food. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I tried. Burned a lot of stuff. I still ate it. I didn’t have that much money. But I kept trying, and I eventually kind of got the hang of it. I got actually got real food for the cat.

“I didn’t expect it to last forever. But I guess I got too comfortable. I’m not sure what happened. Maybe someone saw the metal arm. Or maybe I just got careless. Or maybe somebody decided to investigate the person who could lift just about anything. 

“Six months. I had been there for six months when HYDRA came.” 

Bucky fell silent, taking a couple more bites of pancakes. Steve didn’t say a word for a while. He just sat there, eating pancakes with Bucky and letting the silence stay in place for a little while. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve finally said. 

“I am too.” Bucky was quiet for a little while longer. “I had enough money in my backpack for a plane ticket to America. I had a fake passport, so I used that. And with all that, I made it back to New York.” He gave a bitter chuckle. “That worked out well.”

“Do you know who shot you?” Steve asked.

“Judging by the way they held themselves and walked and spoke, I think they were HYDRA. It’s easy enough to spot an agent. They all go through the same conditioning.” Bucky finished off the last of his pancakes and grabbed another, pouring syrup over them.

“What’s HYDRA doing in Brooklyn?”

“If I had to guess? Waiting for me.” He took another bite of pancakes. “They knew I had to run somewhere. Brooklyn was the obvious choice. It’s my home, after all.” 

“Home,” Steve echoed, looking up at Bucky with a bit of surprise on his face. “You think of Brooklyn as your home?”

“Yeah. And Romania is a close second.” 

“How much do you remember?”

Bucky paused. “…A lot. Not all of it. But a lot.”

“And now you’re home. …For good?”

“I… don’t know.” 

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, there’s probably a HYDRA base somewhere in Brooklyn.”

This seemed to take Steve aback. The fact that there could be a HYDRA base in his hometown, operating right under his nose, was probably a bit of a shock. “That… I would’ve noticed by now.”

“HYDRA’s good at flying under the radar. You wouldn’t notice unless they wanted you to notice.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, and he looked down at his plate, then back up at Bucky. “And if I’d taken them out years ago, they wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“No, no no no no no. We’re not doing this. You’re not about to blame yourself for me getting shot.” Bucky reached across the table, grabbing Steve’s hand with his flesh hand. He looked up, meeting his eyes. He could already see the guilt in them. “You’ve done everything you can. You might have saved my life. I owe you more than you could possibly imagine.”

“You fell off the train because I couldn’t grab you in time. And you saved me from the river.”

“One, that wasn’t your fault. Two, you wouldn’t have been in that river if it weren’t for me.” Bucky squeezed his hand reassuringly. “None of this is your fault.”

Steve slowly nodded, squeezing Bucky’s hand back. “Fine. But… Just know I’m never going to stop trying to make it up to you.”

“And I’m asking you to know that you don’t have to.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“For now.”

Bucky let go of Steve’s hand, letting it fall back to his side. Steve smiled a little at him, then got a little more serious. “Alright,” he said. “What now?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve come up with a plan for taking down the HYDRA base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I forgot to update yesterday! It was a busy day (as busy as a day can be in quarantine, anyways) and it completely slipped my mind. Anyways, here's the chapter!

“Alright,” Steve said. “What now?”

“Now we need a plan.” Bucky finished off his pancakes, standing up to put away his dirty dish before being promptly reminded of his injured leg. He quickly sat back down. Instead, Steve stood up, taking both of the dishes to the sink. He began washing them by hand. Bucky noticed he didn’t own a dishwasher. Maybe he just preferred to do dishes by hand, just like old times.

“A plan. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there are a couple options,” Bucky mused. “First, we could capture and interrogate an agent. But they’re trained to die before giving up any real information. And we’re not going to torture anyone. That’s a line we’re not going to cross.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Bucky echoed. “So capturing an agent is an option, but not a good one. A better option is to spot an agent in public and follow them back to their base.”

“Do you think we could do that?”

“What, follow an agent?”

“No, spot one in public.” Steve finished washing the dishes and moved on to drying them. “They don’t run around openly shouting ‘Heil HYDRA’ and speaking in German accents.” 

“No, but there’s certain tells. I spent seventy years around agents. I helped train some of them. They carry themselves in the same way, and they tend to dress a certain way. I can spot one from a mile away. And worst comes to work, I accidentally follow some random guy back to his house, then we regroup and try it again.”

“Alright, we’ll keep that in mind. Any more ideas?”

“Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it.”

Steve’s motions stilled, and he turned to look at Bucky. Bucky met his eyes, his face completely serious. 

“We could let them capture me.”

“No.”

“Steve-”

“No. We’re not letting them take you. I’m not going to risk losing you again.”

“Can you just let me finish?”

Steve sighed, leaning against the counter and running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Go on. But don’t expect me to go with this plan.”

“Fine.” Bucky shifted his weight slightly. “So we let them capture me. I go out in public, no disguise. Let them take me. You follow them wherever they go, and you get me out before they can do too much damage. It’s highly unlikely they’ll know how to trigger the Soldier.”

“What do you mean, ‘trigger the Soldier’?” A look of concern passed over Steve’s face. 

“I mean there’s still words that can send me back to being the Soldier. No memories, no real thoughts, just a drone to be ordered around. I’m not sure how to snap me out of it. You might just have to knock me out. It wouldn’t be permanent, but it would be a pain in the ass. Especially for you. I know you don’t wanna fight me.”

“Hell no I don’t want to fight you!”

“Alright, alright. Calm down. There’s a very slim chance they know the words. It was highly confidential information. Even the agents raiding my apartment didn’t know them. I think. If they had them, they would’ve used them, right?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. We’re not doing this. Especially not if there’s a chance you’d end up as the Soldier again.”

“What, not really keen to fight me again?” Bucky teased.

“No. No, I’m not,” Steve replied, dead-serious.

“Relax, I was teasing you.”

“And I didn’t find it funny.” 

Bucky sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, fine. So we have three plans. Plan A probably won’t work, and you’re not going to let me go through with Plan C. So I guess we’re going to go with Plan B.”

“So you go out, you spot an agent in the city, and we follow them back to base.”

“Exactly. We can do it later today.”

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky frowned. “Why not?”

“Well for one, you’re still injured,” Steve pointed out. 

“I’ve had worse. And all I’m doing is following an agent.”

“On an injured leg?”

Bucky groaned, looking down at his leg. Steve had a point. He could barely stand on his injured leg, and the wound in his side was still sending little waves of pain through him from time to time. But his arm did the same thing. He could handle it. 

“How did you even escape the guys shooting at you with an injured leg?”

“Well, I shot them first.” Non-fatally. He’d been trying to avoid that sort of thing lately. “Then it was mostly super-soldier adrenaline. I didn’t get too far. I just hid in an alleyway. Then I texted you.”

Steve put away the dishes and went to sit across from Bucky again. “So there’s no way in hell you’re going to be going out to tracking down HYDRA agents on your injured leg.”

“Alright, fine. Two days. I should be able to fight in two days.”

“You don’t heal that fast. You’ll still be slightly injured.”

“Take it or leave it, Stevie.” 

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is this how it felt when you were trying to get me to take care of myself back in Brooklyn?”

“Pretty much. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Is this revenge?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. That’s up to you.” Bucky winked at Steve, and he groaned, even though he was smiling. A soft, fond smile that made Bucky’s heart stutter. It had been so long since he’d seen that smile. 

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Bucky’s lopsided grin slipped a little. “I’ll try not to be.”

“Right. Sorry. Bad choice of words.” Steve reached across the table to take Bucky’s hand again. He’d grabbed the metal one. It probably wasn’t an intentional choice, but he only glanced down, then back up at Bucky before tightening his grip. “It’s going to be fine. You’re not that person anymore.”

“I almost killed you. Twice.” 

“That wasn’t you.”

Bucky was quiet for a moment, then decided not to argue any further. There was no point. Steve was stubborn, and he wasn’t going to back down that easily. Better to just leave it be for now.

“Two days.”

Steve squeezed his hand again before letting go. “Two days.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky get used to living with each other again in the days leading up to putting their plan in action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter is more from Steve's perspective, but it will switch back to Bucky soon, promise. This chapter marks the halfway point of the fic! I appreciate everyone who's been reading so far. Hopefully you'll stick with me through the rest of it!

In the next two days, Bucky and Steve settled into a sort of routine. 

He’d wake up early in the morning before Steve went on his runs. He didn’t sleep much, Steve noticed. He’d go to bed late at night and wake up early in the morning. He’d moved to the couch instead of Steve’s bed. Now that he wasn’t completely exhausted, he had some fight back in him. He insisted that Steve take his bed back. According to him, he “wouldn’t be sleeping much anyway.” 

He ate a lot. That much wasn’t surprising, he was a super soldier, and he had been practically starving for days. They ended up with no leftover pancakes, which was saying something, considering exactly how many Steve had made. Lunch was just sandwiches, and Steve made chicken for dinner. He barely had enough for the two of them. 

Steve enjoyed watching Bucky eat. It reminded him of old times. Back when they shared an apartment, Steve couldn’t hold down a steady job. He took too many sick days. When he did work, it was painting shop signs or selling pieces of art he’d made with the meager supplies they could afford. So he’d ended up being like the stereotypical housewife of the time. He’d learned to cook from his ma, and he’d applied those skills at home. He’d ended up cooking for Bucky and cleaning the house when he felt up to it. Cooking for Bucky again was nostalgic. 

Between meals, Bucky spent most of his time watching the news or out behind the back of the apartment complex. 

He seemed to both enjoy and hate the news. He would sit on the couch with his legs crossed, watching the television. He made a comment to Steve about how he’d kept up on American news, but it was always interesting to see what was going on. He’d get annoyed with things and call Steve over just to rant about it, and other times when they ran fluff stories he’d just sit and watch with a perfectly crafted blank expression Steve suspected was to avoid showing weaknesses. He found it oddly charming. 

When he wasn’t doing that, he was out behind the apartment complex. He originally tried to get down the fire escape on his injured leg before Steve stopped him and convinced him to take the elevator. He’d insisted on borrowing a long sleeved shirt and putting on gloves to hide his metal arm before walking through the apartment complex, and when he came back after dark, he spent a solid fifteen minutes complaining about how one of Steve’s neighbors had tried to start a conversation with him in the elevator. 

Steve went to bed before Bucky, so he never quite figured out how well he was sleeping. Although judging by the fact that he woke up in the middle of the night to see Bucky standing in his doorway watching him, he guessed not well. He also probably would’ve found it creepier if it weren’t Bucky. 

The second day, he actually made it down the fire escape right after breakfast before Steve could stop him. His leg was healing quickly, and he was limping slightly, but overall it was getting a lot better. Enough that he could take a flight of stairs without showing too much discomfort. 

After a few hours, Steve decided to head down the fire escape to see what Bucky was up to. That first day he’d left him alone back there, figuring he could use his space, even if everything in him wanted to be back by his side. But he wanted to see what he was up to back there, and if he wanted him to leave him alone, he’d leave.

Steve made his way down the fire escape, finding Bucky behind the building. He was sitting with his back against the wall, surrounded by a few stray cats. The cats scattered as Steve rounded the corner, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Cats like you, huh?”

“They like food.” Bucky nodded to the open can of tuna beside him. Steve recognized it from his cabinet. Specifically the corner of his cabinet with cans of premade food that never got touched. Steve preferred to cook from scratch, but it was nice having canned foods just in case something happened. 

“They like you too. The strays around here are pretty cautious.” Steve walked over to Bucky and took a seat by his side. “You always used to hate it when I brought home strays.”

“I know. We didn’t have the money to take care of them, and you were allergic.”

“But you always managed to find homes for them.”

“Of course I did. Couldn’t let the little guys stay on the streets.” Bucky smiled, directing his attention to a cat hiding behind the dumpster. He made little clicking noises with his tongue, reaching out and trying to coax the cat out. He succeeded, and the cat slowly creeped back to Bucky’s side, occasionally shooting cautious glances towards Steve. Bucky scratched its ears as soon as it got close enough. 

Steve sat there, watching Bucky pet the cat, and something in his chest ached. He was smiling softly, like he used to smile at Steve. It was nostalgic. “You always did like animals. Cats, dogs, rabbits…”

“I don’t like dogs anymore,” Bucky said quietly. 

Steve gave him a concerned look. “Why’s that? You used to love dogs.”

“HYDRA had dogs. Big ones. Mean ones. I’ve had them sicced on me before. It’s not fun.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve was quiet for a moment, just watching Bucky as he quietly pet the cat. It was hard to see his lifelong friend and know that he’d been through so much. There was so much trauma in his past. So much pain and hurt and suffering. He didn’t deserve any of it. He just wanted to hold him tight for a little while. 

He wanted to kiss him. 

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Bucky looked up, giving him a little smile. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine now. Mostly.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

Bucky paused. “Why do you ask?”

“You said that you’re fine. But you weren’t asleep last night when I went to bed, you were already awake when I woke up for my run, and last night I saw you standing in my doorway. Which was a little creepy, by the way.”

Bucky winced. “I thought you were asleep.”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that whether or not you got sleep last night.”

Bucky looked away. “…I got a nap. For about half an hour.”

Steve gave a disappointed sigh, waiting until Bucky looked back up at him before speaking. “You know you’re safe here, right? Nobody’s going to get you. You can let your guard down long enough to sleep.”

Bucky nodded. “I know. I trust you.”

“Then why don’t you sleep?”

“Nightmares.”

“Oh. Right.” In hindsight, that seemed obvious. “Is there anything I can do that will help?”

“Not that I can think of.” By now the cat had climbed into Bucky’s lap, and he looked back down at it, scratching its ears. “I told you I had a cat back in Romania, right? Kind of.”

Steve accepted the change of subject. “Kind of?”

“He was a stray. I’d feed him and let him sleep in my apartment during rainy nights. The little guy seemed to like me well enough. He’d cry at my window sometimes until I came out to the fire escape to hang out with him. I loved the little guy.”

“What happened to him?”

“I had to leave him behind. I’m not sure if he saw the HYDRA raid, or if a cat could even understand why I’m suddenly not there, even if he saw something happen. I hope he found a new place to stay on rainy nights and a different food source.”

Steve nodded, reaching over to let the cat sniff his hand. “Maybe one day you’ll get a new cat?”

“He wouldn’t be the same. But I hope so. Maybe I could get a couple cats.”

“That would be nice.” Steve smiled over at Bucky and received a smile in return. “Do you want a sandwich? I was just about to make lunch.”

“Sure.” Bucky gently nudged the cat off his lap and stood up, then held a hand out to help Steve up. Steve looked up at him, admiring his friend for a moment before taking his hand and allowing him to pull him to his feet. 

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the wonders of Netflix. He hadn’t had the money for it in Romania, and before that, he didn’t have the means to access it. 

That night Steve actually managed to talk him into sleeping for a little while. He insisted on using the couch again, and Steve relented, but he made sure the couch was made up again. He had pillows and blankets at the ready.

Bucky ended up going to bed around midnight, mostly because Steve insisted on staying awake until he fell asleep. And he stuck with that, sitting in the kitchen with a sketchbook while Bucky presumably dozed off. He went back into the living room after about half an hour, checking on Bucky. When he found that he was either sleeping or faking it extremely well, he went to his room and climbed into bed.

It took him a while to fall asleep. Tomorrow was the day he promised Bucky they would find a HYDRA base. His leg had healed well, and he was walking with only a slight limp now, but he wasn’t sure how he’d do at following an agent. He was still injured, after all. What if the agent spotted him? He wasn’t sure he could lose him again. He’d already lost him once. He’d lost so, so many people, and even if he had a somewhat stable life and friends now, Bucky had been such a huge part of his past. 

He’d spent two years looking for Bucky. And now he finally had him back. And it was of his own free will, and he seemed like he did back in the day. He was a little more serious, and he smiled less, but he was still Bucky. His Bucky. 

Eventually he managed to fall asleep, lying on his back and dozing off after staring up at the ceiling for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a nightmare and Steve helps him recover from it. References [this article](https://io9.gizmodo.com/the-winter-soldier-reveals-the-secret-backstory-hidden-899842569)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> This chapter involves a brief description of a dog attack at the end of the first paragraph, and Bucky references his fear of dogs and the attack later. If you're uncomfortable with this, feel free to skip this chapter. It's mainly character development and won't impact the plot too much.  
> In other news, my laptop is charging rather sporadically if at all, so next week's chapter might be delayed. If you'd like updates on this, message me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/underwhelmingalchemist) and I'll keep you posted.  
> Thank you for reading!

_Bucky was running. His feet pounded against the ground, and he’d been running for so long his lungs were burning. It must have been at least an hour. He was skidding through alleyways, scaling buildings, and jumping from rooftop to rooftop, trying to stay away from his pursuers on the ground below. He could hear the sound of dogs viciously barking, tracking his scent the best they could. He leaped to the next building, only to realize in midair that he wasn’t going to make it. His fingertips scraped the edge of the top of the building, and he scrambled to get a grip, but it was too late. He was already falling. He hit the ground hard, and he felt something snap somewhere, but that pain was quickly overshadowed by the barking, snarling dogs that were rounding the corner. He tried to push himself up, only to be tackled by one of the beasts. Teeth sunk into his flesh arm and his leg. The remaining dog continued barking, and Bucky cried out in pain. No. No, he wasn’t going back. He wasn’t…_

Bucky’s eyes opened, and he scrambled for his knife. He found it on the coffee table and clutched it in his fist. His chest heaved up and down. His mind felt fuzzy, and for a moment, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. 

“Bucky? Bucky, are you okay?”

The man’s voice sounded familiar. He came around the corner, and Bucky found himself staring at a familiar face, trying to place where he knew it from. There was something about him that was oddly comforting. He trusted him. He wasn’t sure why, but he did. 

The man stepped closer, putting his hands out in front of him. “Bucky? It’s okay. You can put down the knife.”

Bucky hesitated, but slowly lowered the knife. He still held the hilt tight, not willing to completely part with his defense. The man slowly walked closer, then knelt down next to Bucky on the couch. 

“Are you okay?”

Bucky stared at him blankly. “…Yes,” he said slowly. He was okay. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t sure why, but he seemed concerned. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Maybe.” Bucky continued to stare at the man’s face, trying to decipher who he was exactly. The man frowned. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

After a moment, he decided to answer honestly. “…I’m trying to remember who you are.”

A look of hurt crossed the man’s face, but it was quickly masked. “I’m Steve. I’m… I’m your friend.”

Something clicked in his mind. It was still all a little hazy, but he knew a few things now. The man was Steve. Steve was his friend. He was in Steve’s apartment, and it was okay. He was safe.

Bucky slowly placed his knife on the coffee table, then looked up at Steve. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Bucky moved to sit up, and Steve took a seat next to him. “Does this always happen when you have nightmares?”

Things were getting a little clearer now. He nodded, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, usually it’s actually worse.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It usually takes me longer to recover from it. Sometimes I can’t remember my own name.”

Steve nodded, studying Bucky’s face closely. “Do you remember who I am now?”

He nodded. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“It’s a little fuzzy, but I think I have most of it back now.”

“So… a nightmare?”

“Yeah. A nightmare.”

“What was it about?”

Bucky sighed, looking away from Steve and resting his head against the back of the couch. “Back in the eighties, I escaped HYDRA for a bit. I defected on a mission. I don’t know what triggered it, exactly. I think it was seeing a mural of you on the side of a building. Or maybe I saw something from our past. Whatever it was, it enough to drag enough of my memories back to pull me out of it enough to forfeit my mission and leave. I spent a few months on the streets of New York, not really sure what I was doing. But it was the first time I could remember that I wasn’t being given orders or being hurt on a daily basis. It was a rough life, but it was better than HYDRA.

“But of course they found me. I knew how to disappear, but I couldn’t hide from them forever. They were powerful back then. They were up until a couple years ago. And when they found the general area I was in, they brought dogs and men and tried to track me down. They succeeded. I was running from them, jumping over rooftops, and I was up against a big jump. I couldn’t quite make the jump, but I didn’t have any choice. I jumped, and I didn’t make it. The dogs got me the second I hit the ground.”

Steve was quiet for a moment as he absorbed the information. Bucky watched him as he did. Eventually Steve spoke up. “So is that what you were referring to when you were talking about why you didn’t like dogs?”

“Kind of. It’s not the only time I’ve had dogs sicced on me. But it’s the most memorable.”

“The fact that it’s happened more than once is…”

“Disturbing? Yeah, kinda.” Bucky gave Steve a weak grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

Steve paused. “Can I hug you?”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The next minute, Steve had wrapped his arms around Bucky, his body warm, pressed against him. He ran hot, so his body was warmer than the average person, and it felt… nice. 

His embrace was familiar. Everything about the way his body fit against him, from the way his arms rested against his shoulders to the way he could feel his chest moving up and down reminded him of the past. Of the way he used to hold him. He even smelled the same. How was it possible that he still used the same soap, the same aftershave? It must have taken him some time to track down either the same old soap or something that smelled identical. 

He stayed close to him for as long as possible, which was about two minutes. Eventually Steve pulled away, and Bucky found himself cold again. He wanted to grab Steve and hold him tight for a little longer. To just turn on the TV and stay in his arms a while longer. He could spend the rest of the night watching old game shows and listening to the beating of Steve’s heart. 

But all good things must come to an end, and he did his best not to let his disappointment show on his face. 

“I probably can’t talk you into sleeping any more, huh?” Steve chuckled, giving Bucky a soft smile. 

“Not a chance. But you can go back to sleep.”

“That’s not happening. If you’re awake, I’m awake.” Steve grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, flipping the channel to a game show. 

“You don’t have to. You should be getting sleep.”

“I know. But I don’t care. You deserve to have someone there on a rough night.” Steve smiled gently at him, then turned to the TV. Bucky returned the smile and did the same. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder, Steve’s body heat radiating off of him in waves. 

After about half an hour of watching the dumb game show, Bucky let his head fall onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve shifted slightly, moving a little closer to Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr! I don't post much, but I'll post when I have a new fic or chapter. @underwhelmingalchemist


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